


One twenty-two

by JayDelahaye



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Doctor Who Secret Santa, F/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Secret Santa, Stood Up, date rescue, dwsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5436992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayDelahaye/pseuds/JayDelahaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stood up for a New Year's Eve party he doesn't want to be at, John's night suddenly gets much better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One twenty-two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsonredheartofdeath](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=crimsonredheartofdeath).



> Huzzah! This is my Secret Santa gift for crimsonredheartofdeath, who prompted a date gone wrong where one character gets stood up and is comforted by the other. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!

John spun on his barstool one, two, three more times, ending with his back to the bar and his glass in his hand. The scotch swirled to a stop as he checked his phone for the umpteenth time. Ten twenty-six. Just under two hours until the new year, and here he was, twirling on a barstool in the ballroom of a very swanky hotel like a child until his head swam, and very much alone.

He hadn’t even wanted to come to this party. Who held charity fundraisers on New Year’s Eve? Vitex, evidently, the health drink megacorp that his research and development firm held a contract from. The whole company had been invited, of course, but every last one of his colleagues had managed to weasel their way out of it, citing family obligations or long-booked travel plans. His boss, Rassilon, insisted on _somebody_ representing Gallifrey Innovations at this party, though, and he would be in the Caribbean for three weeks, but John, you don’t have anything going on, do you? Because of _course_ the one employee with no family, no girlfriend, and few friends outside of work would be _happy_ to sacrifice _his_ holiday. 

John had expressed his reluctance strongly - after all, it would be a clear night, and he hadn’t had his telescope out nearly as much this year as he’d wanted. He’d planned driving out into the countryside armed with tea, whiskey, snacks, and a blanket, so he could ring in 2016 with the stars and planets. If he was going to be alone, he’d do it on his own terms, thankyouverymuch. But then Rassilon had said he’d already arranged for his niece, Jeanne, to be John’s date, because she was new in town and did he mention single? She’s single, John, and doesn’t know anyone here. Oh, John and Jeanne, isn’t that sweet? John had tried not to gag, as 

Jeanne visited the lab a few times, and John found her attractive but far too polished for his liking. Still, they’d exchanged numbers, agreed that they’d meet at the party at 8 PM, and then John never heard from her again. His texts went unanswered and his calls went straight to voicemail. John made a few attempts to socialise, but after the small talk the conversations went nowhere. He quickly realised that this party was actually one of the most anticipated social events on several hundred people’s calendars, and they were all too wrapped up in their own worlds to be interested in a lonely stranger.

At least he still got to drink his scotch. 

John downed the last of it, deciding to wander back towards the nibbles one last time. They were excellent, he had to admit. Leaving the glass behind, he meandered through the revellers towards the food. With nods to the servers behind the table (who he’d seen rather more frequently than he cared to admit), he picked up a few things he hadn’t tried yet. A little pastry, the last on its plate, with blue cheese and some sort of jam caught his eye.

“I wouldn’t eat that one, if I were you.”

John’s reach was interrupted by a voice from his right. Looking up, he saw it came from a smirking mouth, which belonged to an absolutely gorgeous young woman. Her big brown eyes were framed by long brown hair that fell in loose waves to her bare shoulders.

“Oh? And why not?” John replied, once he’d collected himself. He’d caught sight of her sparkly red dress, and suddenly his tie felt rather tight and he forgot where he was.

“Because they’re my favourite,” she said, snatching one from under John’s still-outstretched hand and popping it in her mouth.

“Oh really? Didn’t see your name on it.”

She swallowed and grinned. “Sorry, I just ate the proof. But it _did_ say Rose Tyler on it.”

“Could Rose Tyler tell me what I’ve missed out on, then?”

“Gorgonzola and pear. It’s brilliant.”

“Then I owe you my life. I would not have enjoyed that at all.”

“Not a blue cheese kind of guy?”

“Oh, I love blue cheese. It’s the pear that’s the problem.” He made a face and Rose laughed. “The most vile fruit there is.”

“Worse than durian?”

“Durian at least doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. Durian’s honest. Pears are deceptive little villains.”

Rose kept giggling. “May I ask the name of the man I saved?”

“Oh! Right, how rude of me.” He extended his hand. “John Smith.”

“Seriously?” she asked as they shook hands.

“Seriously. My parents weren’t very creative.”

“All right, John, Smith,” she said. That smirk was back, and how did he _just_ notice that she smiled with her tongue in her teeth? “So, who did you come with?”

John’s stomach dropped. “Ah, I’m with Gallifrey. Only one from the company who could make it, I’m afraid.”

“Flying solo, then.”

“Well, I was supposed to have a date, but I don’t know where she is…”

“Oh no, you got stood up? I’m so sorry,” Rose said, resting her hand on his arm. “Thanks for sticking around though, we really appreciate it.”

“We? Is this your party?”

That _laugh_ again! “Well, it’s really my dad’s. But I helped.”

Suddenly it clicked. “Tyler! Your dad’s Pete Tyler! Of course!” Pete Tyler was founder and CEO of Vitex, the richest man in the country, and John was here with his daughter, his _gorgeous_ daughter, who was linking her arm through his and leading him in some unknown direction.

“That he is. Have you said hi yet? He’ll be excited to meet you. Gallifrey’s done some great work for us,” she said. 

John let Rose introduce him to her father and some of her friends. She ordered them tequila shots and dragged him onto the dance floor several times. He spent far too much money on raffle tickets and posed with her wearing a goofy hat and “2016” sunglasses in the photobooth. In between, they talked about work, family, astronomy, food, and everything else. He was, in a word, smitten. 

“Thank you,” he said. They were back where he’d started, swinging back and forth on barstools. This time he was flushed and disheveled, his hair askew and tie stuffed in his pocket, buzzing with energy. 

“For what?” she asked.

“Rescuing me tonight. I was just going to grab another snack and go home. But this has been brilliant.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Wanna dance again?”

“Sure. One thing first though.” She put down her glass and tugged John off his stool, pushing her hair back before reaching up, resting a hand on his shoulder, and kissing him gently. John was surprised, but not startled - she’d come in slowly enough that he’d had time to react - and kissed back easily, slipping his arms around her waist. When she pulled back, his eyes stayed closed just a moment longer than necessary, savouring the moment.

“But it’s not even midnight yet,” was all he could think to say.

“It’s practice,” Rose teased, grabbing John’s wrist so she could look at his watch. “We’ve only got five minutes left. I wanted to make sure my new year’s kiss would be good.”

“Did I pass?”

“Let me try again.”

John leaned down to meet her lips. This time they didn’t come up for air for much longer, and Rose began playing with the hair at the back of his neck. He groaned reflexively, and reluctantly pulled back.

“You’ll do,” Rose said, giving him _that smile_ again.

Before John could react, the countdown began. They chanted the numbers along with the crowd, eyeing each other the whole time. At one, while cheers and shouts rang out and confetti was shot into the air, John cupped Rose’s cheek, kissed her soundly, and forgot that anyone else was even in the room.

“Happy new year,” he said, smiling down at her. Her hands felt warm, even through his suit jacket.

“Happy new year,” Rose replied. _Auld Lang Syne_ struck up, and they joined in the singing, arms around each other’s waists. 

By the time John checked his watch again, it was one twenty-two. Eighty-two minutes into 2016, and here he was, dancing and laughing like a little kid, and with Rose Tyler, he was most definitely not going to be alone for a very long time.


End file.
